And so the days passed, Eternal Sovereign Regis Vortigern ineluctably spinning the web of power that would ultimately set him supreme amongst men. His fortress, once symbol of his strength, now bustled as a center of diplomacy and intrigue. His chambers, large and shadowy, echoed to the voice of not only his generals, but ambassadors, spies, and envoys. The march of his empire was deliberate, slow, and calculated.
A week had passed since Regis issued his directives to his trusted lieutenants. His strategist-in-chief, Thalras, had already sent agents into Re-Estize and the other territories ruled by Ainz. The Lady Seraphine was deep in negotiation, having established contact with a variety of lesser kingdoms and factions who, although not incredibly powerful, were strong enough in their own territories to be of use to the power equation. Regis needed supporters—individuals on whom he could count when the time came to sabotage Ainz's rule or seize on any splits that appeared within his regime.
Regis reclined in his private study, a chamber lined with memorabilia of past kings and scrolls of yore. His golden, calculating eyes scrolled through a sequence of reports carefully presented to him on a daily basis. His fingers stroked the parchment as he read, reading each word, each line, each veiled implication.
The first report was from Lord Thalras, a status report on his spy network.
"Ainz Ooal Gown is a prudent and patient leader," the report began, lettering written out in Thalras' traditional black ink. "Though he holds unparalleled strength, there have been signs that his rule isn't as secure as it's presented to be. His followers in the Re-Estize Kingdom are getting restless, specifically with the resentment of the civilians.". However, his reach is vast, and those who speak out against him are swiftly silenced. Be cautious when considering direct engagement."
Regis sat for a moment, his eyes tightening. He suspected as much. Ainz's superior strength kept potential rebellions in check, but even the best of rulers could not command absolutely forever. The seeds of rebellion would find time to germinate and bear fruit, and Regis, ever patient, was willing to wait for the opportune time.
Lady Seraphine's second report was from her, working diligently to form alliances. She wrote a short but encouraging letter:
"The Gilded League has agreed to join our cause, provided we give them some leeway to govern trade routes and the authority to collect their own laws. It is a fragile promise, but it will do for now. There are a few other guilds that expressed interest in forming alliances, but they aren't ready to make the commitment yet."}
Regis smiled weakly. The Gilded League was an association of prosperous traders and merchants, influential in the commercial corridors that cut across the nation. Although not very militarily powerful, their vast riches and control over trade gave them the advantage in any conflict. To secure their loyalty, however temporarily, was an achievement in itself.
He sat back in the chair and pondered the report. The path forward was now becoming clearer. He required more individuals to join him as his allies and, most importantly military strength; then he could begin playing Ainz's game against him. But this would take time. Time for rumors to spread, time for betrayals to develop, and time for the pawns to fall in place.
He stood up from his chair, his gaze directed towards the grand window that opened out onto the Ashen Dominion. In the distance, far away, the blackened peaks of mountains rose like silent guardians. Below, his armies trained relentlessly, preparing themselves for battles still to be fought. But war was not yet at hand. War was a time for deception.
Days passed, and Regis spent them carefully spinning his web of spies, diplomats, and agents. His actions were discreet, his influence growing ever so quietly. Each day, his grip on the political landscape grew stronger, but only a few knew the extent of his grasp.
One day, while Regis was convening his most reliable councillors in the citadel war room, Lord Thalras had a message sent. The brief message, which was however extremely important, had spoken of widening divisions in Nazarick.
"The Tomb of Nazarick remains strong," the letter began. "But there are whispers of discontent among certain of the guardians. While they remain strongly loyal to their master, Ainz Ooal Gown, there are signs of unrest among the ranks. Some of the guardians have expressed doubts about the future, asking themselves whether the course upon which Ainz is leading them is the right one."
Regis's thoughts were spinning as he read the report. He knew Ainz was a calculating leader, and the guardians' devotion to him was unwavering. But even the strongest of devotees could begin to falter if their leader's vision began to shift or if their own desires were left unfilled. The fissures that had appeared within Nazarick, though minor, might be the secret to knowing how to erode Ainz's influence.
"A trap?" Regis swore to himself. "A trap to gain information? Or is Ainz's hold on his abilities genuinely weakening?"
He knew the guardians were powerful beings, every one of them with their own motivations. The Floor Guardians, with the ever-loyal Albedo at their head, each individually formidable. If any of them betrayed Ainz, it would be catastrophic—not only for Ainz, but for the world in general. But Regis had always been a man to pride himself on having a sense of timing, and this occasion was no different.
On that evening, once the sun dropped below the horizon, Regis summoned his inner circle. He stood before them were Seraphine, Thalras, and his most devoted general, Commander Kael, a man whose allegiance was not to be broken and whose combat prowess had no equal.
"I have learned something that might turn everything on its head," Regis started off, his tone low and measured. "There is discontent among Nazarick. The guardians are starting to question Ainz's authority. This is an opening—one that has to be taken advantage of with care."
Lady Seraphine's gaze became slanted, a spark of recognition passing across her expression. "You think a faction inside Nazarick is weak?"
Regis nodded slowly. "Yes. If we can shift the balance, even a little bit, it could seed enough doubt to erode Ainz's dominance. We can't strike against him directly, but if we can manipulate the powers within Nazarick. we can take him down."
Seraphine stepped forward. "And what if the loyalists are too loyal to Ainz to betray him? We could attempt to corrupt some of the weaker members, but the guardians—"
"Are not perfect," Regis interrupted, his voice firm. "Each and every one of them has a flaw. If we push the right buttons, if we play on their ambition, we can create a fissure in their ranks. That is where we have to begin."
Kael, standing at attention, spoke next. "I'll send my best to infiltrate the guilds and factions that are affiliated with Nazarick. We'll identify who the influencers are, who can be played."
Regis nodded in agreement. "Excellent. We gather as much intelligence as we can. Find the weaknesses, and when the time comes, we will strike in a precise manner."
As his advisors left to carry out their orders, Regis remained behind in the war room, his mind focused on the mission. The Eternal Sovereign had always known that in politics and power, one could never afford to underestimate the faintest of whispers or the quietest of doubts. And now, more than ever, he had to be vigilant. Ainz was powerful, but none—no matter how powerful—were immune to the subtleties of the game.
Regis's control was growing, and with it, so was his authority. He had his followers and he had his slaves. But most importantly of all, he had time—and time was the greatest weapon.
As night descended, Regis made his final decision. The next few moves would be crucial. But he would bide his time. For now, the game was afoot, and he, the Eternal Sovereign, would continue to play.